Quinch?

An obscure reference I know, but upon seeing 'DR' cut into the bark of this mature Beech in White Shoot wood, my first thought was 'where's Quinch?'.

The spawning

Spring must be on its way, as the spawning has begun. The side waters of the filigree of small streams and brooks which criss cross the forest and feed the bigger streams, are filling with blooms of frog spawn.

Warwick Slade

The forest is still inundated, standing water fills every undulation, every hollow and walking is like stepping on a vast sodden sponge.  And still the rain falls, not as vigorously and not as persistently, but still far too frequently.  Warwick Slade is a wetland, impassable without getting wet to some degree. So we move into the fringe of Brinken Wood, where the ground is just high enough to remain dry, though still watery hollows block you path and call for alternative routes to be sought.  You can't escape the water, no matter how hard you might try.  Another all too frequent obstacle are the fallen hulks of mature Beech and Oak, supplemented by many smaller species, their humbled crowns crowd the woodland floor. Looking about I can see seven mature Beech, all of which once towered above me, prostrate, splintered and broken on the forest floor.  The forest has certainly suffered this last year.

Tyneham Cottage

It was Tyneham villages isolation in, as Dorset in the 1940's was then a quiet backwater, that sealed its fate.  It was often quoted that people frequently bypassed Dorset in favour of the better known holiday destinations of Devon and Cornwall; their loss really.  Though, what better place to locate your secret military training ground, especially if the training you're going to undertake is for the top secret and pivotal invasion of Europe.  It's so peaceful in the Tyneham valley, and you could say that that's because nobody lives here and it hasn't changed in 70 years, that would be true, but only to an extent. Yes, there would have been more activity and the bustle of life if a community was still active here and you can only imagine how the valley and coast might have changed if left as was; although by all accounts Tyneham was always a peaceful place to live.  Looking through the small cottage windows you wonder what activities went on beyond and how was life played out in this tight community. Walking around the village ruins and reading the testimonials in the individual cottages, the school and church by those who lived here, it would appear a real tale of paradise lost.

Still in the hills

We continue to be draw to the Purbecks whenever the Sun shines. Well you would.  It's blessed with boundless wonders and veritably crackles with natural energy and magic.  It never ceases to strike me how close we are here to the South coasts biggest urban conurbation. A brief 5 minute ferry journey offers such a transformation in environment.  For part of our journey we took a route new to us, whether it was an actual footpath or even permissible, I'm still uncertain. Nevertheless it took through land, along a track we'd previously not walked. Always a buzz, seeing new perspectives on familiar land marks.  At times the Sun shone brightly and afforded us a reasonable degree of warmth, although as you climbed the hills a brisk wind rose.  Though whilst taking breaks this wind could be negated by finding the right spot to rest in.  There tucked away, closing your eyes, you could drift away, immersed in natures embrace and the Suns warmth, all accompanied by the beautiful song of birds preparing for change. Lovely.

Spring skies

Spring

He said hold on it's coming, hold on it's nearly here. That's Spring that is. You can feel it's approach. When the Sun's out and the birds are singing Spring could already be here, only when the Sun's out and the birds are singing mind.

Bits of hut

Piles of splintered beach hut, the ones which until recently were along the prom at Friars Cliff, are regularly spaced along the under cliff at Steamer Point and Highcliffe castle. Victims of the recent storms, the wind and sea have spread them over the shoreline for nearly a mile. Those were some crazy weather conditions we've experienced of late; possibly something we'll need to get used too. So many holiday memories would have been locked up in those weathered wooden beach houses.

Black Ears

The fresh Jews Ears I found a few weeks ago don't look so good now or do they?  You can dry Jews Ears and they look like this; have they been naturally dried? I'll have to look into this. 

Worbarrow Bay

The coast was magical today, the coast is always magical, but today it was even more so.  In every direction a view that stopped you and commanded you to look on in awe, not that you needed commanding. You find yourself smiling like a slack jawed fool, uncertain of how long you stood planted, absorbed in natures delights.  I've seen these views so many times and yet the wonder never diminishes.  Each time I look out across this undulating landscape is like the first time but better, more intense, with more depth, over time you appreciate new facets, subtleties you'd not previously registered. Finding the new in the familiar always gives me a particular buzz.  Today the magic in the Purbecks was tangible.

Milky Mupe

As the winter seas erode the softer bands of chalk geology along the Jurassic coast, great plumes of milky wash cloud the waters, growing, travelling along on the currents before dispersing.  The cycle is complete, starting in the sea, it's only proper that chalk should find its way back there, even if it takes many millions of years.

Flowers barrow

If I had to choose a Iron Age Hillfort to have lived in it would be Flowers Barrow. Perched high on the end of  the Purbeck hills, overlooking the Jurassic coast, it would appear ideally located both defencively, with only one reasonable approach, and to exploit a wide range of environments each containing a myriad of valuable resources. Life here could have been easy, probably, by Iron Age standards anyway.  And the views.

Road block

One of a group of large evergreens has fallen across a nearby main road, sending a street lamp crashing to the ground in the process, leaving a section of the road in total darkness.  Through the fallen boughs the moon was visible in the clear night sky. Is there no end to this wind, too many trees have already fallen.

Douglas

The Douglas Fir, a majestic tree and easy to spot in the forest, especially at this time of the year, when the other trees are mostly bare and its natural great size makes it stick out. The Sun played amongst a small stand of Douglas this afternoon and if you closed your eyes you could be in spring; the smells, the increased bird song, the gentle warmth all conspired to trick the senses. For when the clouds rolled in and you opened your eyes, spring had been spirited away and you were back in winters dank cold embrace. I feel I need spring, more this year than I can remember, perhaps it's the perpetually leaking leaden skies weighing heavy on my mind or that we've had no proper cold snap to clear the air. Maybe.

Hardy mushrooms

I'm not certain what species these fungi are, but they're hardy, to survive winter and in particular this wetter than usual winter, is no mean feat. But thriving they are. Hues of oranges and yellows, climbing up the rich green moss covered Ash trunk like a sprawling miniature fantasy mushroom city, among a forest of young ferns, they create quite a spectacle in this subtle hued season. Nature's great.

A milky sea

The sky had been mainly blue and the wind, although noticeable, was still slight; but all of a sudden the sky turned ashen and the wind, now deeply chilled, rose to quiet a force. Rain could be seen falling in the distance and occasionally the odd stray drops made you pay closer attention to the movement of the sky and had you scanning ahead for shelter. Then just as quickly as it arrived, it was passing by out towards the Isle of Wight. The light breaking to the rear of this heavy grey block of cloud, gave the impression that the sea had turned a milky blue grey and allowed the strong shadows cast by the low late afternoon Sun to be clearly reflected on its surface. 

Truncated dunes

The beach at Studland has been hammered by the recent storms, with sea eating away at the fragile sandy coastline. Between Middle Beach and North Beach, where the dunes have been eaten into, plenty of World War Two remains have been exposed.  Angle iron pickets, twisted barbed wire pickets, sections of scaffold bar as well as the usual pieces of rusted whatever. It's amazing that even after all this time, still the detritus of the war years keeps on surfacing; a testament maybe to the activity and quantity of materials used at Studland.  It took years after the end of the war for the Studland peninsular to be cleared of ordinance and made safe for public use. Even today ordinance is regularly found on the beach or in the dunes.

The I've walked this beach since I was a child and can't remember seeing the dunes truncated by the sea in this way; well, not to this extreme anyway.  For a kilometer, or more, the dunes beyond North Beach, towards Shell Bay, have been cut by the sea leaving a near vertical face, in places up to 2.5-3m high. It's a strangely unnatural look,  like the dunes have been quarried away and so different from the usually gently decreasing grass covered dunes.

Fougasse pumping station

You'd pass this unimposing concrete platform and think nothing of it, more than maybe something mundane like a water reservoir or some such. Whereas, in fact it's all that remains of a unique, to my knowledge, World War Two feature, a fougasse pumping station. During the early years of the war, when the threat of invasion was high, the army searched for any means of defending our shores. Here at Studland they tested the suitability of 'Fougasse' or flame weapons.  The 2 types of weapon that I'm aware of were the static flame thrower and the slick method. For the latter, an oil mix was pumped out through pipes, some still visible in the cliff face of South Beach, out into the sea.  The oil caused sizable slicks which were to be lit by the RAF and create a wall of fire off shore. It was said that the Germans were terrified of such weapons; well, you would be wouldn't you? The second method was the fixed position flame thrower, where nozzles were fixed at regular points along the upper shore and when lit would have been capable of covering that entire section of beach in flame. Both a bit grim, though both born of desperation. The pumping station would have been required for the second method. Up into the 80's the site was still accessible and comprised of a semi sunken bunker, reached by a slope in which all the pump machinery and controls were installed; since then though, it has been sealed and the access ramp covered.  You'd never know.

Sommerfeld Track

Often referred to as 'tin lino', Sommerfeld track was widely used by all branches of the military throughout World War Two, as track or temporary runways or whenever hard standing was required quickly.  Here at Studland, amongst the carr woodland which backs the dunes at North Beach, sections of Sommerfeld track still remain where they were laid by the army during exercises in the lead up to the D Day invasion. For something developed as a quick fix or for use in particular situations as a stop gap, it's lasted, in reasonable condition, for 70 years, considering its exposed location on the coast, that's not bad going.

Boundary bank

Throughout the forest most of the older boundary banks and ditches have been levelled and filled over the years, as forestry practices have changed or at least have been slighted by time. Here in Highland Water enclosure, created in 1869 and one of the later enclosures, sections of the bank and ditch still remain well defined, though the ditch is almost filled by centuries of leaf litter.

Run!

At which point I thought it pertinent to move hastily away from the quayside.

Storm at Mudeford Beach

The storms continue to come and they do their best to cause havoc. The beach as been scoured away, giant holes opened up in the prom, beach huts jiggered about and in danger of being washed out to sea. The shape of things to come maybe?  I wonder if climate change is sinking in yet, or if people are still holding on to the 'it's normal fluctuations in weather patterns' nonsense, or some other outdated excuse not to accept the truth and make meaningful change.  I tend not to dwell on climate change too much, as when I see so many slighted trees or our coast and cliffs succumbing to rough seas, I feel powerless.

Bend blocker

Along the upper reaches of Highland water numerous trees have slipped from the banks, weaken by the wet weather of recent times;  the storm surges and high winds  have taken their toll on the large flora of the streams fringe.  These two, although not too large, have fallen on a bend in the stream and will no doubt create the nucleus of  a fair sized dam.

Knobbly Beech

Throughout the forest you often  see trunks with growths on, but not many a knobbly as this old Beech. From the ground up this tree is looks like it's had giant worms burrow under its bark or it's bark was once fluid, it really is unusual. Though when young it mist have been straight and true, as it carries the Admiralty arrow, cut into the trunk about 2 meters from the ground.  All the mature Beech in this area carry the arrow and would once have been destined for Royal Navy vessels, though times changed and they were spared the axe and saw.   

Stonehill Barrow

The barrow a top Stonehill Down commands spectacular views along the Purbeck Hills, over the great heath and on to the quiet anchorages of Poole Harbour.  Dating from the late Neolithic or Bronze Age, the monument is variously quoted as being, a long barrow or a bowl barrow, when in fact archaeological survey shows it's actually a oval barrow, surrounded by a ditch with a causeway at each end, this site represents a rare prehistoric monument, possibly one of only fifty known. 

Back to the hills

We were back in the hills today, roughly the same route as last week but with some minor deviations and an extension.  It was a good choice.  As we moved through the undulating woodland that leads to the base of Knowle Hill, searching as went for World War Two site, I was rapidly warming up, the long climb up the incredibly steep side of the hill had me sweating and regretting my cautious clothing choices.  After an arduous climb we finally reached the ridge and my clothes choices were vindicated, as we were struck by icy winds which swept through the grasses making them swish and whip frantically. Slabs of cloud scud across the sky, driven by the brisk chill winds that ripped at you; though get back below the inland ridge of the hill, away from the wind and the Sun that occasionally bursts free, warms you nicely. The Sun also plays about the stands of the Great Wood and as it shines, casting its low shadows, you could almost see spring getting closer. All in the woods is still, though you feel that nature is biding its time, waiting for the moment to burst forth and lead the march to summer. 

Creech Barrow Auxiliary Hide

Creech Barrow Auxiliary Hide; I've searched for this site several times over the years using NGR's found in books or on-line and until today had had no success. It would appear that all the sources I'd used had shown inaccurate locations and erroneous grid references, intentionally or not I'm uncertain. I first tried to find it in the late 90's, no luck and regular surveys over the following years ended similarly, I began to think the sites entrances had been covered over, the degrading site becoming hazardous.  Today I found it, in the right area, but no where near any of the suggested locations.  Auxiliary Hides were commissioned in 1940, over 40 were located in Dorset alone and were intended to provide operational bases for small groups of well trained resistance fighters; the Creech Barrow hide unit had 7 members, a Sgt., a Cpl. and 5 privates. In case of invasion these units were to continue a gorilla warfare campaign against the German invaders; creating the nucleus of a British resistance force.  The public never knew of they're existence or the double lives of the men, sworn to upper most secrecy, who manned them. Of course, they were never called upon to act and after the war their hides lay forgotten and neglected as the men went on with their lives continuing to maintain secrecy and silence about their wartime activities

The site was subterranean and would have comprised of a concealed entrance leading to two rectangular rooms, all block built, with a angled connecting passage to deflect explosions, the second room also had an emergency exit; the rooms were topped with a concave strong (elephant) corrugated iron roof  covered in a couple of feet of soil. The site is much diminished.  The entrance, the joining wall with passage, along with the escape exit, all being build in block and concrete remain in good condition, although all their fittings have long since disappeared or perished.

Reports from the 70's and 80's suggested that the hide remained pretty much intact, photos taken in 2003 show that sections of the roof have collapsed, though it's clear that sections still remained in situ, unfortunately all but fragments of the roof remain in situ and it looks some years since the remaining roof fell.  The collapse in not yet complete, there are several visible voids and I'm sure more unseen. 

The two rooms served different uses, the first room after the entrance was the store room,  where equipment and materials were kept and where preparation activities would have taken place; planning, arming explosives, weapons maintenance as well as the day to day activities such cooking.  The second room, reached through the angled passage was smaller, 7 hammocks would have been slung from a central pole, with a small bolt hole escape exit in the far wall.

These sites are a rare glimpse into a period of national fear.  In the face of a potential invasion by a devastatingly effect army, who had swiftly and with ease decimated and dominated several European armies, including our B.E.F, we faced some harsh possibilities. We were obviously planning for invasion and our potential defeat as well as  what came afterwards.  This site is a hard to find and mostly forgotten, which is sad, as it represents a little known episode of our World War Two home front experience.

Imbolc

With the first signs of life renewed.
Our hearts with light and love imbued.